Being Becca
by SJMcGee
Summary: Remember Becca? From the 1st episode of Series 1? Nothing? Well, this story aims to change that. Just because the show didn't continue her story, didn't mean it stopped. Please welcome; Becca, Hansen and David in SJMcGee's 'Being Becca.' Being Human UK
1. Now What Do I Do?

"_A man should not leave this earth with unfinished business. He should live each day as if it was a pre-flight check. He should ask each morning, am I prepared to lift-off?"  
-_Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

**-I-**  
**NOW WHAT DO I DO?**

BECCA

I always wanted children. Actually, I always wanted the whole shebang really; big white wedding, surrounded by friends and family, breathtaking honey moon, (I always imagined going to Fiji, or Hawaii, or just somewhere with a lot of 'I's in it because that made it sound more tropical) then a house with a white picket fence, a dog, a cat and then four children. Two boys and two girls- like there are in Narnia. I used to love that book. I don't suppose I'll ever get to read it again.

"What did you do to her!"

"Easy tiger, what's the problem? You just need to let her drink from you."

I could hear myself panting, gasping for air as I laid in the lap of one of the hospital porters I worked with whilst his mate- my date- was sitting over me. I was an intern at the hospital; I knew that this wound was going to kill me; I had already lost a lot of blood.

I didn't want to go. I didn't want to die. Twenty five, I was twenty- ten months off becoming a fully-fledged nurse and now I was going to die, on the floor of and dank and dungy alleyway that smelt like cat piss and vomit. Nice one Becca.

"Becca. Becca keep looking at me, keep looking at me," my date said, pulling my head towards him, but the truth was I knew there was nothing they could do.

But she had said something. The woman who attacked me. What had she said before, about me 'drinking from him?' I don't know what that meant, but it was really not the time or place to be making crude sexual remarks if that's what it was.

"It's okay honey. He'll save you. He can make all of this go away."

"Mitchell can you save her?" asked the porter.

"I can't," My date whimpered. "I can't."

I could feel myself slipping, slipper further and further away. The darkness encasing me and pulling me away from everything I knew, everything I loved, everything I ever wanted in my life.

"She's loosing consciousness!"

"You better hurry up. She's about two pints away from being an organ donor."

"Mitchell, do SOMETHING!"

They kept talking, but I couldn't hear anything. Everything was gone; my past, my present, my future. All being stripped away from me until all that was left was darkness and the faint sounds of my date crying over me.

But suddenly, light. There was light, everywhere the most beautiful light I had ever seen. It wasn't like the light everyone says they see at the end, you know all that rubbish about "running down a tunnel" and stuff, it was different. It was warm, comforting and happy. I was happy, for a single shining moment I was happy even though I was fully aware of the torturous pain I had just endured.

I could see again, no more darkness. I could see light! I could hear, I could hear crying and yelling and the sounds of an ambulance. I could smell, cat piss and vomit. I forced open my eyes. I knew I could do it I didn't just want to see light I wanted to see what was going on.

I was alive… sort of. I looked down to my little white and orange top.

"There should be blood," I whispered, knowing how much I was bleeding from my open wound, there should be a hell of a lot of blood.

My wound, my neck.

I reached up, it was fine. Hold on, I didn't feel that. How did I not feel my hand touching my neck- I did it! I know I did.

I could hear crying, loud crying and I finally realised where I was standing. By the gate a few meters away from where I died.

Died? I died, I'm dead. There I am, dead. In the arms of George with Mitchell there. But how can I be dead, if I'm right here?

"She's around here!" cried a woman nearby who had obviously seen me die.

Two paramedics with a girdle came rushing around the corner and before I knew it they were right in front of me, pushing the empty girdle right through me before following through themselves before arriving down the alleyway where dead me was.

I reached down to my stomach in shock. That was one of the weirdest feelings I had ever experienced, it was as if my body had been stretched out as they walked through me and finally gelled back together as soon as they had made it through- like when you stretch an elastic band and then let go.

I could feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Oh good, at least I can still cry. I began to slowly back away as they lifted me onto the girdle and George and Mitchell backed away, still with their backs to me.

I had to get out of here, I couldn't stand it anymore.

Before I knew it, I was bolting along the path. I didn't know where I was going, or what I was going to do but I had to go.

I kept running, thinking about what to do next. It wasn't like I could call a cab to take me back to my flat; no-one could even see me. It was like I was part of a horrible practical joke where everyone was pretending they didn't know I was there and everyone in the entire world was part of it.

I soon found out that I could run for as long as I wanted and never got tired. Where was this ability a few months ago? I needed to lose a few before I got into that tight pink dress for my sisters' wedding in April and this ability would have really helped with my jogging course I did every morning.

My sister, my family. They all think I'm dead. Well, technically I am dead, but they're going to be devastated! I was going to be an Aunt soon, now I never will.

Eventually I arrived back at my flat, running up the outside stairs and standing outside of number 13. 13, how ironic. I never thought anything of that number before now, it was like the flat knew I was going to die even when I moved in.

I fumbled down to my jeans pocket, the key must have been in my bag which was with Mitchell and George… and my dead body. Well, if the two paramedic blokes could walk through me, maybe I can walk through doors too.

"This is going to be really uncomfortable again," I whimpered, closing my eyes and running through the door and to the other side.

My flat, I was home. I walked along the front hallway and down to the open living area and sat down on the sofa. Oh good, I can still sit.

I rocked backwards and forwards a few times, looking around the room tentatively.

"Now what do I do?" I stated, aloud.

But what was the point in speaking; even if someone else was here they wouldn't be able to hear me.


	2. Family Reunion

"_Man is harder than iron, stronger than stone and more fragile than a rose."  
-_Turkish Proverb

-II-  
FAMILY REUNION

DAVID

Sitting alone in a corner booth of a café with a cold cappuccino and a sour expression over my face was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon. However, it wasn't as if I had anywhere else to go, and I was meeting someone who was a big fan of this area.

I say that, because he's a big fan of desolate, run-down places with dim lighting a little security- makes it easier to 'shoot-up' or do whatever it he and his crony friends do in these sorts of areas.

I hadn't seen him in over ten years; he had left one Thursday afternoon after another fight with our parents about his chosen 'lifestyle.' That was only a few years before I left too. This was also due to my lifestyle, however his was a choice and mine was just the way I was born.

I heard the front door chime as someone entered the café and made his way to the back corner, sliding down opposite me and placing his hands down on the table.

"Dave?" the man asked, and I looked up.

He looked very different from when I last saw him, however he was thirteen when he left so if he looked the same I'd be worried. His short dark hair was now wavy and slicked back from his face. He wore a dark top and ridiculously tight jeans with those odd slim black boots that looked horribly uncomfortable- not that I had ever worn them of course. He also wore those gloves with the little finger holes in them, with a small amount of dark eyeliner on each eye rim.

"Hansen, nice to see you again," I responded, slowly. "You're different."

"You're not," he retorted, scratching his head calmly, "Still seem like an uptight twat to me."

I lowered my eyes.

"Yes, well I was eighteen when you left," I snapped back, "I had already come to terms with, you know, who I was and stuff."

"What did mum and dad say?"

"They told me to get out."

"Half expected that," he smirked. "What with them being 'lovely' people and all."

"How did you know?" I asked. "I mean, about me? I never told you."

"Well, it was kind of obvious," he stated, leaning forwards and grinning. "There was only so many times you say you were bringing your 'friend' Jeffrey over to study and lock yourself in your bedroom for two hours before we started figuring it out."

I shrugged my shoulders. I wonder what happened to Jeffrey; we parted on not so happy terms. Not my finest hour.

"Figures," I responded, eventually.

"So, what's with the family reunion?" Hansen asked, sneering. "Please don't say you brought me here so we can bond or something."

"I called you because I had an idea," I began. "Darren kicked me out, turns out he wanted some 'alone time.'"

"Is that code?"

I shook my head impatiently.

"What I'm trying to say is, I have been living in a cheap hotel and last I heard you didn't have a home either and were just sleeping at… well, with whoever you can find," I continued. "So I thought; we could combine the little money we have and rent a flat. I'm not saying we need to become best buddies or something, but I have no-one else to turn to and you are in need of accommodation that's not… someone else."

Hansen considered the idea, tapping his fingers on the table a few times before a short, blonde waitress came over to the table.

"Are you all alright here?" she asked, pulling out a notebook and pen from her pocket.

Hansen looked over at her, looking her up and down until finally smiling up at her.

"I am now," he said, smoothly. "What's your name gorgeous?"

The waitress looked taken-back for a moment, before smiling back gingerly.

"Debbie."

"Deborah, that's kinky," Hansen responded and I shook my head, slightly embarrassed.

She grinned, "I'll get you both two new drinks- on the house," and she walked away.

Hansen had always been a bit of a ladies man; even as a little kid he had a collection of little "girlfriends." I guess you could say he was that annoying kid who never ran away from the girls when playing those chasing game, you know the ones when you had to kiss the person you caught.

"What was that?" I asked, patently.

"Manners," Hansen snickered, however I could tell he was already thinking about where he would be 'living' tonight. "Anyway, so you're proposing we move in together?"

"Well, yeah I guess," I replied. "Although, we have different lives so I'll stay out of yours and you stay out of mine. Our bedrooms will far apart because I really don't want to know what goes on with you at night- so really, the only thing we'll be sharing is a kitchen and a bathroom- completely separate apart from that. We don't even need to talk if we don't want to."

Hansen rolled his eyes a little sad sat further back in his chair.

"Alright, where've you got in mind?"

"There's a flat nearby here that's practically being given away," I explained, recalling the information I had learnt this morning from the landlady of the flat. "Apparently there's been a long line of people who have moved in and quickly moved out because of one reason or another so the price has been lowered. It's perfect."

Hansen sighed as the waitress returned with the drinks, sliding a little white note under to the bottom of his glass.

He winked at her and she walked off.

"Okay, I'm in," Hansen replied. "But, we'll look at it tomorrow. I'm gonna be busy tonight."

He took the note and slid it into his pocket.

"Well, here's the information," I stated, taking out a card from my wallet and writing the address on it. "I'm thinking three o'clock tomorrow during my lunch break. You better be there."

"Don't worry man, I'll be out of the house by like seven tomorrow morning," Hansen sniggered. "Love 'em and leave 'em."

He gulped down the beer the waitress gave him in one go and slid out of the booth.

I changed my mind; he hadn't changed that much at all.

I spend the night once again in the grotesque hotel room I had been staying in the past few days and woke up early for work, changing into my uniform. I headed downstairs to my car, piling my single bag of clothes and the few items I could grab before Darren changed the locks to the house and plonked the bag into my car. If Hansen agreed to rent the flat with me, it meant I could finally stop living off ten year old furniture and eating from plastic plates.

I arrived at work half an hour early and went straight to my office where there was a stack of paperwork waiting for me to complete. Being promoted to Detective Inspector was supposed to be a good thing; however it really just meant a whole lot of forms to fill out and emails to send, oh and who could forget the small pay cut.

There was a knock at the office door at about mid-day. I looked up and one of the newest recruits stood at the door.

"We got another one Palmer," he said, quietly. "That's makes seven now, seven public disturbances in the last four weeks."

"Same as the others?" I asked.

"Yeah, homeless," the recruit replied. "Keeps saying 'they're coming for him' and that 'they're gonna kill everyone.'"

"Put him in lock-up with the others," I said, and the recruit nodded.

These weird occurrences with Bristol's homeless had been going on for a few months now. All they did was run around crazily going on about 'creatures coming to kill them'. We couldn't really do much apart from take them off the streets until they calmed down, they weren't actually hurting anyone.

At three in the afternoon I left my desk for my lunchbreak, going down to my car.

I pulled up outside the flats on Sheidow Street, getting out and spying a short stoutly red-headed woman with glasses, holding a large clipboard and struggling with her handbag standing at the base of the stairs that led to the upstairs apartment rooms.

I made my way over to the woman and held out my hand.

"Patricia Moore?" I asked. "I'm David Palmer; I rang about looking at the flat?"

"Oh, oh yes," she said, looking giddy with excitement and shaking my hand before looking down at her clipboard. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming, it's been happening a lot lately. People say they're coming and then hear the stories and don't turn up."

"Well that's fine," I responded, "I don't believe in any of that stuff, neither does my brother who appears to not have arrived yet…"

Just as I spoke, two people rolled in on a loud, sparkly motorbike. The person at the back opened the visor of helmet, revealing her to be the waitress from yesterday. The person in front got off the bike and took of the helmet, thanking the waitress who slid to the front of the bike and rode off.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," I said, holding my hips impatiently.

"Turns out Debbie had a bike," Hansen responded as he walked over to me, "so I stayed a little longer. Couldn't resist."

"Okay well if you're both here then we can begin," Patricia said, turning around and leading us up the stairs.

We walked along the balcony, past all the doors until we got to door number 13.

"Don't think wrongly of the number or anything," Patricia frantically said, after she noticed where we were looking.

"Not superstitious remember," I reminded her and she nodded, still seeming a little stressed out.

She took out the key from her hand bag and unlocked the door, leading us inside.

The flat was a little dusty and the windows were boarded up, but apart from that it was really nice.

To the left of the front door there was a space for a formal living room and opposite that was the first bedroom. The next door on the left was the bathroom and then up a few stairs was the rest of the house, mainly; an open family room, dining room and kitchen, with the second bedroom to the left of the open area.

"So as you can see it's a lovely flat but everyone lets their imagination run wild," Patricia said, as a phone went off. She reached down into her handbag and pulled it out. "Oh, maybe some competitions fellas. Feel free to take a look around and I'll be right back."

She hurried out of the flat leaving my brother and me in the kitchen area.

"So what do you think?" I asked him, as he wondered over and peered into the second bedroom.

"Seems tight," he said, nodding his head.

"Please say you're talking about the flat," I stated and Hansen smiled devilishly.

I sighed loudly, walking down to the first bedroom and looking in it closely. It was more than big enough for what I needed and I'm sure we could find some cheap furniture somewhere, Darren wasn't even considering letting me have any of his.

I turned around to return to the kitchen when I spied a blonde woman sitting on the floor with her legs up against her body in the corner of the front living room, her head resting on her knees.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, kindly and the woman slowley looked up. "I thought we were the only people here-"

"Glad I'm not allergic to dust, or I'd probably be dead by now," Hansen cut off, coming into the room also and spying the girl. "Oh, hello there."

She looked taken-back.

"You guys can see me?" she asked.

"Of course we can you're right there," Hansen responded, puzzled.

There was a rummaging sound at the door and Patricia re-entered the flat, still on the phone, "Oh excellent I'll see you in an hour, goodbye." She hung up.

"I didn't know there were other people coming in with us today?" I asked, as Hansen and I looked over to her.

"No there isn't," Patricia replied, confused. "I mean, now there's two later on, but at the moment just you two."

"Then who's…?" I began to ask, before looking around.

The room was empty.

"Where'd she go?" Hansen asked.

We were standing in the doorway, there was no-way she could have gotten past without us knowing, and the window was bolted up.

"Anyway, what did you think of the house?" Patricia asked, kindly.

"Interested, very interested," I stammered, both Hansen and I still looking at the spot where the woman was.

"Well, we have another group coming in so I'll see what they think, but if they aren't interested I'll call you up and you can move in straight away," Patricia said, opened the front door to show us out.

I thanked Patricia and made my way outside as she disappeared down the hall. I turned around, noticing that Hansen was still inside.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"I like this flat, so I'm gonna talk it over with Patricia, make sure those other people aren't as interested as us. Catch you later," he said before closing the door on me.

I groaned and began to make my way downstairs and to my car. As I did, I found myself wondering who that blonde woman was, was she real? Hansen had seen her to, I know he had. Maybe we were wrong, maybe we just wanted another person living there so as not make it awkward between us soo much that we both invented someone? Or maybe she was real; maybe she's some kind of spirit, watching me right at this moment?

Nah, probably just being paranoid… again.


End file.
